Her boy Jack
by WriteToLive
Summary: Just a short piece that I wrote on a whim. Jack's life from his mother's point of view.


Her boy Jack

She'd felt he was special before he was even born. He didn't make her ill, she didn't have a sore back from carrying him. Every time she saw a nurse or doctor, there were no problems. He slept in the position he was supposed to, kicked occasionally to remind her he was still there. When it was time for him to enter the world, he did so easily. He didn't want to cause problems.

When he was a baby he slept through the night. Ate what he was given, didn't cry for no reason. Walked early but didn't talk much. She looked into his serious blue eyes and he looked back at her, accepting her love and returning it without being over effusive. He knew he was her son and he'd be the only one she ever had. He didn't mix too much with the other kids at school but no one ever bullied him. He shone in class but no one ever called him a geek. He won every athletic honour but he was never labeled a jock. The cool kids wanted him to join their groups but he didn't. Stood alone, watching, knowing he was accepted but knowing he was different. She was so proud watching him, knew he was destined to be a great man.

In high school he didn't go off the rails like some kids. He worked hard. Captained every sports team he had time for. Girls fell at his feet but as she watched she knew he would only pick the ones that challenged him. She knew he was waiting for someone. The guys who had 'images' wanted him to join them, knowing he would make their images stronger. He refused. They had to save face so they tried to weaken him with their fists. He resisted when he could, was always man enough to walk away. Sometimes he took a few hits but always came away having inflicted more damage than he took. Girls loved him all the more for it. He didn't drink excessively, stuck to his curfew, treated people with respect. Stayed away from drugs. Got a part time job in a mechanics shop. Worked hard, saved his money. Graduated top of the year. She watched as he wore his cap and gown, looking around at the other parents who, of course, couldn't help but notice the strength in this exceptional young man. She couldn't quash the smug feeling inside. That was her son.

UCLA. He continued the way he'd started. She'd long ago stopped worrying about whether he'd go wild and mess up his life. She worried that he might never find people to relate to. She worried that when he did, she'd lose the one thing she had that she could always be proud of. But she should have known better. He met his soul mate but never forgot who brought him into the world. Became a father at 20.He shouldered the responsibility with an ease that men twice his age wouldn't have managed. His daughter was a delight and he doted on her.

He continued studying at Berkley. But she was sick now, she would not get to see him graduate this time. She watched him attend her funeral, saw the way he locked the pain inside. Held him as he cried alone that night. Listened to him tell his daughter that it was OK, Grandma was happy with the angels. Kissed her as she cried.

He joined the Army. It was as though he'd be born to take responsibility for people's lives. His troops respected him beyond anyone else in their lives, would die for him despite his young age. He trained harder than them, carried the heaviest loads, ran the longest race, fought the hardest war. He was their shoulder to cry on, a father to men much older than he was. He was her son.

He took his family home to the town where he grew up, was asked to face the gravest peril of all. The only thing that could hurt a man like him, he had to choose between the country he fought to protect and the family he would die for. She watched as he held the body of his dead soul mate, reached out and touched him whenever he reached for his gun. Reminded him that he'd never let his daughter down before.

The wild behaviour he'd never experienced in his youth came for him now. He drank to try and sleep, embraced the needle while he looked for oblivion. He cried through nightmares, screamed when he fought his chemical crutch. The country he fought for tried to break him time and again. And now, he stood alone. Bruised and bloodied...but not broken. She watched him pick himself up for the floor, watched him once again start to fight the good fight. And she wondered what she had ever done to deserve such a miracle.

But that was him. Her boy Jack.


End file.
